


parted from me (and never parted)

by enchantingghost



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Getting Together, I'm a massive fan of the tos dynamic so i wanted to play with that a bit, M/M, Memory Loss, Mutual Pining, T'hy'la bond, Tarsus IV, Trauma, and he is more transparent about his emotions than he'd like to believe, and the idea of shared memories.. and how people live through things together and shape each other, au: spock was on tarsus, canon typical mutual devotion, nothing graphic tho, sareks parenting methods continue to be woeful, they both think they know where they stand with the other: they dont
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29226294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantingghost/pseuds/enchantingghost
Summary: – golden hair & tanned skin. a brush of something against his mind, comforting. movement in the corner of his eye. he turns, a phaser whirrs and –Spock has had these flashes since his serious illness some years ago, but since their arrival on Cygnus VI, they have become more frequent. He does not know why; he does not know what they are. He has attempted to accept it as a simple quirk of his mind, just as his inner eyelids are a quirk of his Vulcan physiology. Kai’idth.Jim knows, and he doesn't understand why Spock is pretending not to.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 8
Kudos: 107





	parted from me (and never parted)

_– golden hair & tanned skin. a brush of something against his mind, comforting. movement in the corner of his eye. he turns, a phaser whirrs and – _

“Mr Spock, report?”

Spock blinks twice, checks his screen. “All scans clear, Captain. We can proceed.”

“Mr Sulu, continue at warp one, will you?” Jim’s eyes do not leave Spock’s station. “Mr Spock, with me.”

They enter the turbolift in companionable silence. Spock is unsurprised when Jim stops it and turns to him, concern in his eyes.

“Is everything all right, Spock?” He does not say _this is the fourth time today you’ve been caught unawares_ , though they both know it is.

“Affirmative, Captain.”

“Jim,” he corrects, “and I’m asking as your friend, not your captain. If you need to see Bones –”

“I do not require the assistance of Dr McCoy.” Spock replies immediately. Jim gives him a wry smile.

“I thought you’d say that. If you need to take some leave –”

“I do not see why that would be necessary or permissible, Captain. I am performing my duties to an adequate level.”

“It’s Jim. And I know you are, you’re never anything less than _adequate_ , but after your time on Cygnus VI last week it’d be perfectly understandable if you needed some time.”

Spock furrows his brow, allowing himself to reveal some confusion to his closest friend.

“Ca – Jim, I fail to see what our landing party becoming stranded on Cygnus VI for a week has to do with my ability to fulfil my duties at present. Furthermore, yourself and Ensign Riley were also stranded and I have seen no indication of you or him planning to take any leave.”

Jim looks exasperated, and Spock thinks he must be missing something. It’s a feeling he gets less often with Jim than most, but it does happen, and has been happening with more frequency since the mission to Cygnus VI.

“We all cope differently, Spock. And besides, you know it’s different for Riley. He doesn’t,” and here Jim lowers his voice, even though they are alone in the turbolift. “he doesn’t _remember_.”

The feeling that he is missing something in this conversation intensifies.

“Perhaps the ensign should see the doctor if he is experiencing difficulties with his memory.”

Now Jim looks even more annoyed.

“Fine, you don’t want to talk about it. I thought – with me, at least…” he trails off. “Hell, it’s not that I don’t understand, I just –”

This time, Jim cuts himself off. He straightens and restarts the turbolift.

“I’m serious about that leave, Commander. Take it if you need it,” he says, and strides through the open doors, leaving Spock behind. The use of his rank shouldn’t make Spock feel as if he’s lost something, and yet.

***

_cygnus vi, nine days ago_

The sun beats down. It’s not an unpleasant environment for a Vulcan, between the heat and the dryness, but the humans are struggling. Spock redoubles his efforts gathering wood for this evening’s fire. It might be hot now, but the nights on this planet are freezing. Fortunately for them, there are plenty of trees around. The planet is heavily forested. Spock remarks on this, and the captain laughs bitterly.

“Just like old times, isn’t it?” Spock nods, unsure of how to respond. The captain has been in a strange mood for the last few days, abrasive but quiet.

Spock would suppose it’s due to the stress of being stranded, but he is aware that that does not make sense. Jim usually thrives on stress; usually seems to relish the opportunity it gives him to act to the best of his considerable ability as a captain. This is a routine mission, so of course they are stranded. It’s for the usual reason – ion storm interference with transporter equipment. It’s also wiped out their communicator abilities, so they have no idea when to expect beam-up.

They’ve been here three days so far.

“Captain, we have one day’s rations left,” Ensign Riley informs.

“Noted, Ensign,” comes Jim’s response, a far cry from his usual tone of levity.

“It might be prudent, Captain, if we were to begin gathering supplies in case we are not retrieved within the next day or so,” Spock says, when becomes clear that Jim is not going to say anything more.

Jim frowns, nods. “An excellent idea, Mr Spock. I’ll go now to gather some; you carry on getting fuel. Ensign, help him.”

Jim does not address the ensign by name, Spock has noticed. More atypical behaviour.

“Captain, perhaps the ensign should go with you, given the unfamiliar terrain and the physical exertion of my task,”

Jim shakes his head.

“Ensign, remain here, that’s an order. I’ll be back within an hour, Spock.”

Spock inclines his head. They will talk about this, but now is clearly not the time, and there have been no hostile life signs on the planet so far, so he is willing to permit Jim this space if it is what he desires.

He continues gathering wood, pulling branches off trees and putting them in the pile near their makeshift shelter. Riley helps a little at first but soon tires, and when Spock orders him to rest he does not resist much and settles down to sleep. He continues alone.

The repetitive action is soothing even though the movement is taxing.

_– skin on his, hands on his. he is not alone here. he is not alone, even here. the hunger and the fear is overwhelming but he is not alone. he does not breathe through his nose. the smell –_

“Spock?” Jim has returned. Two small dead animals in his hand.

Spock realises he has stopped moving.

“Yes, Captain?” he puts on his best Vulcan mask, performing blankness.

He has had these flashes since his sickness as a teenager, but their arrival on this planet has increased their frequency. He does not know why; he does not know what they are, anyway. He has attempted to accept it as a simple quirk of his mind, just as his inner eyelids are a quirk of his Vulcan physiology. _Kai’idth._ That is what his father had instructed him to do. His mother had agreed.

“Most humans have dreams about things that haven’t happened to them, Spock,” she’d said, and before he could protest, she continued, “and you do have human heritage, even though you choose to claim your vulcan heritage foremost.”

He had misgivings, still. But he left it at that. The flashes did not bother him. Although they were often disturbing, disruptive, they also came with a great sense of – _comfort_ , he might call it, although that wasn’t quite right. The overwhelming associated emotion was always fear. _Connectedness,_ perhaps. With what, he couldn’t say. They were infrequent for the most part, at any rate. He made an effort not to dwell on them.

Jim sits down beside him, placing his kills on the ground between them and beginning to skin one.

“Sorry about this, Spock. I know you’re vegetarian, so I found you some berries – I’ve patch tested them so you should be all right, but –”

Spock looked up at his captain, hearing the break in his voice before it cut off. Jim looks horrified.

“Spock,” he says, softly. “You don’t have to.”

Spock looks down at his own hands, now covered in blood. He’s started to skin the other animal himself. He does not know where he learnt this skill, much less how it became instinctive.

_– the smell of blood & hunger & hunger & it hurts, he can’t stop it hurting, but at least he isn’t alone. there’s the other presence, that gentle touch in his mind – _

“Jim,” he replies, using his first name to try to reassure the other man. If it grounds him, too, that is simple coincidence. “It is logical. We need to eat, if we are to stay here.”

“Yeah,” Jim breathes out. Spock has never seen him so unsettled, so sad. “Yeah, you’re right. But you don’t have to. We’re not desperate. It’s not like before.”

“Before, Jim?”

Jim looks at him for a second. “Sorry. Forgot we were pretending.”

Before Spock can say anything, Jim’s stood up, stalking away.

“I’m going to check my traps,” he says, despite having set them less than half an hour ago.

Spock finishes skinning the carcass. He attempts to meditate a little, but his thoughts are too unsettled, and besides, he has the sleeping ensign to watch over.

Just when he’s beginning to worry for Jim’s safety, his communicator beeps and then he’s being beamed aboard.

_– sudden, the white of some unknown medbay. strangers, adults everywhere. the presence in his mind, stretched, distant. he can’t see, can’t think. he can hear screaming. he can’t remember. the smell. the trees. everything blurs together –_

It’s ship’s night, so he heads to Jim’s quarters for chess. Jim seems almost surprised to see him at his door. He doesn’t say anything, just gestures for him to enter. Spock can see he’s been drinking, and drinking alone, at that. This does not bode well.

“How are you, Jim?” he ventures. That makes Jim laugh.

“Small talk, Spock? Come on, let’s just play.”

“As you wish.” He inclines his head.

They play in silence for 21.2 minutes, until Jim looks up at him and

_– everything hurts. he’s missing something, that golden – something. everything blurs. everything hurts. the smell. the white, crawling over everything. the gold –_

Jim’s eyebrows are furrowed, but he’s not looking at the board, he’s looking at Spock. He puts down the piece he’s holding.

“Something on your mind, Jim?” he tries again. Jim closes his eyes.

“I can’t believe I was thirteen when Tarsus happened.” The words come out in a rush, like it’s something he’s afraid of saying.

“I am afraid I do not understand. You refer to the age you were when the massacre on Tarsus IV took place?”

“Spock, you know what I mean. You were fourteen yourself.” He takes a breath. “We were so young.”

Spock is obviously expected to respond, but how, he does not know.

“Yes, Jim,” he softens his tone in the way he only ever does for Jim, “We were indeed young at that age.”

“Oh, do not give me that, Spock,” and now there’s danger in Jim’s tone. “Stop messing me around. I know you don’t like talking about it, but don’t pretend you don’t understand.”

Spock is silent in the face of this emotionality, desperately wishing he did understand.

“I know you do so just don’t, okay? Not here, not with me. Don’t make me face it alone.”

While he still doesn’t know what his captain is talking about, he does know what the true answer is.

“Never, Jim,”

At that, at least, his captain’s face softens. He ventures further.

“Do you wish to talk about it?”

Jim looks up and meets his eyes again.

“Are you sure you want to?”

And Spock has no idea what he’s putting himself in for, but when does he ever, with Jim, and when does that ever stop him. He has long since made peace with the fact that he will do anything for his captain, and not because he’s his captain. Because he’s _Jim._

So he nods.

“I just can’t stop thinking about Riley. I can’t imagine what it’s like to live through something like that and then forget it. He can’t remember a thing about it, Spock. Nothing. It’s a blessing, I think. But he lost everything that time made him. Would have made him. That’s probably a good thing but for me, if I forgot. I don’t know who I’d be. If I’d be any good as a captain. If I’d even _be_ a captain. I just – I don’t know how I feel about it. Is it better to not remember, or to have to live with what happened? I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Jim never looks small, not to Spock, but he suddenly looks very, very young.

“Jim,” he says, slowly, trying to work out the right approach. “Am I to understand that you and Ensign Riley were on Tarsus IV at the time of the massacre?”

If Jim looked dangerous before, that’s nothing compared to how he looks now. He stands up. And sits back down again and just _looks_ at Spock. Spock has seen this man fight Klingons and Romulans and makeshift Gods and he has _never_ seen this sheer fury in his eyes before. He does not flinch; he does not move back. Jim is trying to get him to move away, to turn his back. But Spock said that he wouldn’t let him face this alone, and Spock is a half-Vulcan of his word.

“You know I was.” Jim bites out. He says nothing more, just stares at Spock with that terrible look in his eyes.

Spock considers his next move for a second.

“No, I do not,” Spock says, firmly, quietly. He can see, in his peripheral vision, Jim’s knuckles gripping the table turning white, can hear his breath hitching. “But – while not comparable to what either you or Ensign Riley experienced, I do have some experiences in common with the ensign. I was gravely ill as a teenager. I remember nothing of that year, the year I was fourteen.”

Jim gapes at him, but with less fury, and he takes that as a sign to continue.

“I believe it is better to remember. Although I know it must have been unpleasant, it was part of my life. It would have changed my outlook on the world. For that to have been lost to me, I feel as if I have lost part of myself. I – ”

It is not like Spock to cut himself off, not when he does not make admissions like this in the first place, but Jim has gone pale and looks more unsteady than Spock has ever seen him. He keeps looking at Spock, searching his face for – he does not know. He appears to be trying not to cry.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to cause you undue distress –”

Jim interrupts him.

“You don’t remember?” he says, very quietly. “You’ve never remembered?”

“Negative.” he replies promptly. “Jim, I must confess I cannot understand why this is affecting you so. In comparison to what you or, indeed, Ensign Riley must have experienced –”

“Shut up.” Spock stops short. “Sorry I just. I need you to be quiet for – Spock. Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“Jim, you haven’t done anything wrong,” It is a mark of Spock’s level of distress that he has begun using contractions. “Jim, I am well.”

“You want to remember,” Jim says, ignoring him. “You want to remember, you said?”

“I do not see how –”

“Just answer the question, Spock,” and Jim sounds so much more like his usual self the Spock forgets to be concerned for a millisecond. “If you could remember, would you want to?”

“Affirmative, but it is not possible.”

Jim takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Spock, you weren’t sick.” Spock’s already furrowed brow furrows even further. “Spock, you were – you were on Tarsus IV, with me and Ensign Riley. Kevin, we called him, back then.”

And just like that, Spock remembers it all.

_that soothing presence is Jim the blond hair is Jim the sweat and shine of skin in sunlight is Jim, every good part of this nightmare they lived through is Jim and it’s been Jim all this time, all this time right here and yet so far t’hy’la whole in his mind and so far, they’ve been parted and parted and never not parted and he’s been here this whole time but he’s never said anything just watched and waited because he thought Spock didn’t want –_

“Thank you, Captain,” he says, and leaves Jim’s quarters.

In his own quarters, he calls his father. He does not pause for the ta’al. He is not in the mood to show his father due respect.

“Why did you not tell me?” That Sarek deigns to respond to a question so vague is a testament to the severity of the situation.

“My son, after the events on Tarsus IV, you were so distressed you could not talk. You would not eat. You began to have seizures. The adept told us that if we did nothing, you would die within the year.”

“But after, when I was stable, why did you not tell me?”

“I believed… It did not seem logical, when you had recovered. We did not know the effect it would have. Besides, you were… content, without knowing. I cannot deny that your condition before was most disturbing.”

“Father, all this I could come to understand if it were only the trauma you had hidden. But it was everything. Jim – my captain. He has thought, for many years now, that I did not wish to speak to him of it, that I did not trust him enough to speak of it. He is t’hy’la, and you hid him from me. I may never have –” And here, Spock cuts himself off. It is not Vulcan to deal in hypotheticals, but that is not why he stops speaking. It is because the thought of never having met Jim, never knowing him is too difficult to contemplate.

Something flickers in Sarek’s eyes.

“I grieve with thee for the years you lost, but I will not recant my actions. They saved your life. Your life is valuable to your mother,” he pauses. “And to me.”

Spock holds up the ta’al. There is nothing more to say.

“Live long and prosper, father.”

“Peace and long life, my son.”

He sits. He does not know what he is supposed to do with the knowledge he now has – has had all this time, somehow.

His padd beeps. His mother. He picks up for long enough to see her eyes, tears only visible to one who knows her well.

“Spock,” she says. He hangs up immediately.

So that she does not worry, he sends her a message.

_We will talk another day. Do not fear, Mother. Live long and prosper._

This puts every interaction with his parents and with Jim since the age of fourteen into new light. This changes the narrative of his life. He thinks, perhaps, he would like to change the narrative of his life himself, this time.

He is not a captain by nature, but he has always been strong willed; it is why he did the kahs-wan early; why he went to Tarsus, he suspects; why he joined Starfleet. He has never been able to extend this will to personal matters, adrift as he generally feels. But now he knows the source of this adriftness. It is separation from his t’hy’la. Jim.

And now that the initial overwhelm of sensation and shock has worn off, he remembers everything: the feel of Jim’s calloused hands on his; the sensation of his lips; the feeling of immersion in his mind. Before the fungus struck, they had been happy. They had known how to be happy.

The admiration and regard he has for his captain and his friend have never been in question, but now the other thing, the thing that he has set aside where no-one can touch it, because it is _his_ and he knows that Jim could never feel the same surges forward, buoyed by hope. He knows, now, what love looks like on Jim. He remembers it. It is not the way he acts with the women on missions, the shallow flirtations he pretends not to understand. It is _gentle_. It is _kind_. It is, more than anything else, _Jim._

He does not know how he is supposed to construct himself now, but he knows what he wants. He thinks he understands, now. He knows what he has to do.

He walks straight into Jim’s quarters, where his t’hy’la is sitting on the floor, staring fixedly at a sock on the other side of the room.

“I must apologise for my earlier behaviour.”

Jim seems to shake himself out of his trance.

“It’s quite all right, Commander. You’re under a considerable amount of emotional duress at the current moment.”

Spock is struggling not to shake as he speaks. “Please, Jim, call me Spock.”

He comes across the room and sits down facing Jim on the floor. He holds out his second and third finger.

Jim’s eyes widen and soften, but they’re still wary.

“Do you mean it?”

Spock replies right away. “Yes.”

Jim stares at his outstretched hand and does nothing.

“Jim?”

He breathes. “Spock.” He hesitates a moment before continuing. “I take it you remembered.”

“Affirmative.”

“You remembered our… association?”

“Affirmative,” Spock answers, and then, because he has been denied this for so long, he adds, “t’hy’la.”

Jim reels a little, at that.

“Don’t do this because you remembered. Don’t do it because you know we’re t’hy’la. Don’t do that to me, Spock.”

“Jim?”

“If you want to be with me, tell me it’s because you do _now_. Not because of what we were.”

“Jim.” Spock says, and contrary to everything he learnt on Vulcan, tries to let every feeling he has be visible on his face. He must make Jim understand.

It must work, because this time it’s Jim who shakily offers two fingers. Spock meets them. It feels right. It feels like home.

“Jim, if I may,” he asks, reaching out a hand to meld. “It would only be light. I wish – to show you.”

Jim nods, and he slides in. This is the most natural feeling in the world, Jim’s mind pressed against his, so full of vitality even in its darkest places. He shows Jim everything, the strong thread of his own emotion from that set-aside place in his mind. He lets Jim in, and it’s like being drowned in sunlight. He would not have it any other way.

“Can’t get me out of your head, huh,” thinks Jim.

“Illogical. It was me who –”

“A joke, Spock.” comes the reply.

They both know this, of course, but the easy familiarity of their banter is comforting against this new terrain.

After some time, they withdraw from the meld. Their physical bodies are very close, foreheads pressed together.

Jim speaks first. “We love each other, huh,”

“It does appear that way, yes,”

“We’ve been idiots this whole time.”

“I may have to concur with that too. However, I believe the appropriate Terran phrase would be ‘better late than never’.”

Jim chuckles, and everything is quiet again. They have a lot to discuss, but that can wait. For now, it is enough to let this new truth settle between them.

“We were so young,” Jim says.

“Yes, Jim. We were.” He understands, now.

**Author's Note:**

> my first full trek fic :) if you leave kudos or a comment it will make me very happy!!


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